<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Soldier, Won't You Marry Me by cpt_winniethepooh, MagicaDraconia16, Trashcanakin</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004881">Soldier, Won't You Marry Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpt_winniethepooh/pseuds/cpt_winniethepooh'>cpt_winniethepooh</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16'>MagicaDraconia16</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashcanakin/pseuds/Trashcanakin'>Trashcanakin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art, Canon Injuries, Cooking, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Humor, Iron Man Big Bang 2019/2020, Mental Health Issues, Minor Angst, Moodboards, Piano, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team Feels, Team as Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:54:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpt_winniethepooh/pseuds/cpt_winniethepooh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashcanakin/pseuds/Trashcanakin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Civil War, the Compound is haunted by the ghosts of "what could have been". Four broken pieces (head, heart, arm, legs) slowly find their way together to form one complete entity and in the process discover something beautiful.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; James "Rhodey" Rhodes, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Tony Stark &amp; Vision, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Vision, James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Vision, Tony Stark &amp; Vision, hints of winteriron - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Iron Man Big Bang 2019/2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Have No Boots To Put On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So here is my entry for the Iron Man Big Bang 2019/2020. The story and chapter titles are from the nursery rhyme of the title. In fact, the entire symbolism of the thing revolves around that nursery rhyme (don't ask me why; I couldn't tell you), although it at least has a happier ending than the rhyme does. </p><p>I was privileged to work with two wonderful, and very patient, artists. </p><p>The beautiful and evocatively on-point moodboards were done by cpt-winniethepooh, as was this <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2IuNEQlwNYfghbLnsaYJZN">lovely playlist</a> here, and the gorgeous chibi artwork was done by Trashcanakin (full size artwork <a href="https://zainniko.tumblr.com/">here</a>). </p><p>Thank you both <em>so</em> much! *mwah*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony had been alarmingly quiet lately.</p><p>Granted, that perhaps wasn’t surprising, considering the events of the so-called ‘Civil War’ that had taken place so very recently, but even so, Tony was much too quiet and subdued for Rhodey’s liking. It reminded him far too much of when he’d found Tony sitting in the car when he’d been dying of palladium poisoning.</p><p>“You aren’t dying again, are you?”</p><p>The abrupt question caused Tony to turn from where he’d been standing beside the windows, looking out over the Compound. He gave Rhodey a quizzical look.</p><p>“We’re all dying, honeybear,” he said. “One way or another. But me in particular, right now? No. Why’d you ask?”</p><p>“You’re too quiet,” Rhodey told him.</p><p>The quizzical look turned surprised. “Too <em>quiet</em>?” he repeated. “Normally you want me to shut up, now I’m too <em>quiet</em> for you?”</p><p>Rhodey shook his head, more at himself than in response to Tony’s question. Tony did have a habit of rambling, particularly when caught up in the middle of an engineering binge or when he was trying to deflect reporters, and sure, occasionally the flood of runaway words had annoyed him but overall Rhodey had never minded <em>too</em> much. But now, after Rogers’ and the rest of the Rogues’ betrayal and abandonment, his best friend moved around the Compound like a shadow of himself. It was unnatural to see Tony shuffling around, keeping his head down and trying his best to merge with the shadows.</p><p>“You’re brooding,” he said, and pointed a finger at Tony as the other man opened his mouth to object. “Don’t even bother trying to deny it, man, I know you.” Tony’s mouth snapped shut again. “You’re feeling guilty over what Rogers and his posse did, and you shouldn’t. It was <em>their</em> decision, not yours—”</p><p>“But it hurt <em>you</em>!” Tony burst out, surprising them both. He pressed his lips together tightly, obviously not having meant to say that, and turned back to face the window, arms crossed tightly around his chest. If he was trying to hide his expression, he failed miserably, as Rhodey could still see it reflected in the window.</p><p>It was not an expression Rhodey liked seeing on his friend, but unfortunately it was one that had become all too familiar in the last few years, especially once the Avengers had come together.</p><p>Guilt. Terrible, soul-wracking guilt.</p><p>Rhodey levered himself off the couch he’d been sitting on and haltingly made his way over to his friend. Tony’s eyes followed the movement of his legs in the glass reflection, his eyes becoming more haunted the closer Rhodey came. The bracer exo-skeleton was a Stark marvel, but it was still a visible reminder that Rhodey couldn’t walk under his own power anymore; that he had no real feeling in his body from the waist down.</p><p>“Look,” he said, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder as he reached him, “it’s a bad beat, okay? I’m not denying that. But it could have happened at any time, man. You know how many missions I’ve been on, not counting all the War Machine stuff? One hundred and thir—”</p><p>“—ty eight,” Tony said in chorus with him. Rhodey gave him a <em>Look</em>, and Tony’s mouth quirked into something that could have been the beginnings of his trademark smirk. “Believe me, honeybear, you think I didn’t keep track of each and every one? Had to make sure my Platypus was safe.”</p><p>“Excuse <em>you</em>!” said Rhodey in mock-indignation. “I’m Air Force, you think I couldn’t ensure I was safe all by myself?”</p><p>This time, Tony gave him a genuine smile as he swayed gently sideways to bump shoulders with him. “All those contracts you helped sign on the dotted line say otherwise,” he returned. “But, you know, if it makes you feel better to imagine that you’re capable…”</p><p>“Yes, yes it does make me feel better,” Rhodey informed him, loftily, and squeezed the shoulder he still held. “My <em>point</em>,” he continued before Tony could side-track him anymore, “is that this—” He gestured down at his legs. “—could have happened during any one of those missions. That it happened now isn’t anyone’s fault.”</p><p>He waited a beat, waited for Tony’s expression to begin losing the amusement that the banter with Rhodey had generated. “Okay, no,” he continued as soon as Tony’s eyes darkened, “you’re right; it’s <em>completely</em> Fury’s fault.”</p><p>Tony’s gaze shot to meet his, surprised. “What?” he spluttered.</p><p>Rhodey gave a casual shrug. “If he hadn’t found Rogers and defrosted him in the first place, then none of this would have happened,” he pointed out.</p><p>Tony continued to stare at him for a moment. “I don’t think that’s how it works, sugarplum,” he said, but he was beginning to smile again anyway.</p><p>“Look,” Rhodey continued, pulling Tony back towards the sofa, “it doesn’t matter whether it’s Fury’s fault, Ross’ fault or Rogers’ fault – and you know <em>damn</em> well which one I think it is – but the point I’m trying to make here is that it isn’t <em>your</em> fault. Okay? Okay. Now then, how about we get FRIDAY to list up some incredibly sappy film that we will then proceed to make fun of and throw popcorn at?”</p><p>“…Just who gave you your meds today?” Tony asked, laughing as he allowed Rhodey to lean against him. “You are undeniably perky today, and that is just not like you.”</p><p>“And how would you know that?” asked Rhodey, sinking gratefully onto the sofa as they reached it. Standing took more effort than most people would assume.</p><p>“Because I know you,” Tony pointed out. He lowered himself beside Rhodey, a lot more carefully than he usually did. No doubt due, Rhodey thought with a rush of hot anger, to the still-mending ribs that Tony had been brought back from Siberia with.</p><p>He slung his arm over Tony’s shoulders, pulling the other man into his side. “I can do perky,” he informed him. “I am <em>always</em> perky when I’m not having to chase after your dumb ass.”</p><p>“Hey!” Tony made a movement that suggested he’d tried to dig an elbow into Rhodey’s side, but he was pressed too tightly against Rhodey to get the leverage for it. “My ass is not dumb; it was voted Smartest Ass three years running!”</p><p>“Uh, I think you’ll find that was <em>you</em> being voted a <em>smart ass</em>,” Rhodey corrected, grinning.</p><p>Tony huffed and folded his arms over his chest in mock-indignation. “Lies! Lies and slander!” he protested. Then he paused, obviously thinking things over. “No, actually, you’re right,” he admitted, finally, and Rhodey felt like doing something suitably dramatic to show how shocked he was – like clutching his chest and falling off the sofa. </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, instead. “I don’t think I heard that. Could you repeat it?” He cupped a hand behind his ear and tilted it towards Tony.</p><p>Tony snorted and shoved at him. “I don’t know why I put up with you,” he complained.</p><p>“Because you <em>luurrvvee</em> me,” Rhodey sing-songed.</p><p>Abruptly, Tony sobered, which hadn’t been Rhodey’s goal at all. “You’re right,” Tony said again. “I do love you, Rhodey. You know that, right? You’ve been with me since MIT, through the drugs and the booze and the girls and the <em>Spring Breaks</em>—”</p><p>“Hey, now!” Rhodey interrupted. “We swore not to mention Spring Break ’89 <em>ever again</em>!”</p><p>“—and the general <em>jackassery</em>,” Tony continued, rolling right over the top of Rhodey’s words. “I would do anything for you, so I understand where Ste- <em>Rogers</em> was coming from on that point, I do, I really do, but I would not burn the world for you. You know that, right, Platypus? I couldn’t do that, not even for you.”</p><p>Rhodey met Tony’s gaze. “I know,” he replied, softly. “I know, Tones, and I wouldn’t expect it, either. We wouldn’t be who we are if either of us did.”</p><p>Silence descended again as they looked at each other.</p><p>“Okay,” said Tony eventually, breaking eye contact. “That’s enough of that, all these feelings are giving me <em>hives</em>. FRIDAY, load up a movie, something with lots of explosions in it!”</p>
<hr/><p>He saw Vision hanging around the still-destroyed kitchen at way-too-damn-early-o’clock in the morning.</p><p>“Hey, Viz,” he greeted the android. “Can’t sleep?”</p><p>“I do not sleep, so no,” Vision replied, in such a dry flat tone that Rhodey couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. (He decided to take it as such, because Vision came from JARVIS, who came from Tony . . . who used sarcasm as pretty much his mother tongue).</p><p>“Something on your mind?” he asked, skirting around the Vision-shaped hole in the floor towards the kitchen cabinets. A severe craving for hot chocolate had woken him up, and he knew he’d never get back to sleep now unless he satisfied it. Tony had been <em>such</em> a bad influence on him.</p><p>There was a hesitation from Vision, the kind that they’d grown to learn meant that the android was trying to put his thoughts into human words that they’d understand.</p><p>“I do not understand Miss Maximoff’s actions,” he finally admitted. “I thought we were . . . friends.”</p><p>Heaving a silent sigh, Rhodey placed the chocolate mix down on the counter. This could be a long conversation.</p><p>“You could have been,” he said, turning to face Vision. “Tony thought Rogers was his friend, too. They could have been your friends, until you did something they didn’t like, which is on them; or they were just using you both . . . which is <em>also</em> on them. You’re still young, Viz, and Maximoff used her powers on everyone. Not a surprise if she got you caught up in them, too.”</p><p>Vision looked frustrated. “But I should not have been,” he stated. He raised a hand to gently run his fingers over the yellow stone in the middle of his forehead. “This is what gave Miss Maximoff her powers to begin with. I considered myself to be immune from them for that very reason.”</p><p>“She didn’t have to use the powers on <em>you</em>,” Rhodey pointed out. “Not directly. Just, sort of, direct your feelings the way she wanted them to go.”</p><p>“That is almost worse,” Vision said, consideringly. “It implies that I am incapable of standing up to what I believe is called peer pressure.”</p><p>“It makes you young,” Rhodey repeated, “and believing yourself in love for the first time. We’ve all made stupid mistakes when we fall in love for the first time. It’s almost a rite of passage.”</p><p>Vision folded his arms over his chest and studied the hole in the floor again. Rhodey absently wondered if he could see how far down it went, or if he <em>remembered</em> being sent through however many floors it was. “But she was quick enough to turn on me when I tried to stop her leaving. That is not the actions of one who believes they are in love,” he said.</p><p>Rhodey sighed again, out loud this time. “I don’t know how much you’ve been looking at the internet,” he began, “but there’s such a thing as an abusive relationship, Viz. It’s entirely possible that Maximoff <em>did</em> think – <em>still</em> thinks – that she loves you. But it wouldn’t matter because you were stopping her from doing what she wanted to do. She’d consider it your fault that she dropped you through the Compound floors. That’s what abusers do; convince their victim that it was something they did or did not do. This?” He waved a hand at the demolished kitchen. “Was not on you, Viz.”</p><p> </p><p>
  
  
</p><p> </p><p>Vision remained silent, leaving Rhodey unable to tell whether he’d begun making any headway with him. To distract himself – because sometimes, leaving the person to think allowed it to sink in better (<em>yeah, looking at you there, Tony!</em>) – he turned back to the hot chocolate mix and began setting up the saucepan and milk. He could have just used one of the microwaves scattered around, but somehow doing it the old-fashioned way made it taste better to him.</p><p>“But the distraction she caused <em>is</em> on me,” he said, eventually.</p><p>Rhodey felt like banging his head against the counter. <em>Not another one!</em></p><p>“No, it isn’t,” he said, firmly. “My injury is <em>not</em> your fault, okay? It was just . . . bad luck.”</p><p>“But you would not have been injured if I had been paying more attention when you first called my name,” Vision said. “If I had been faster—”</p><p>“No, nope, nuh-uh! I am not playing this game with you as well as Tony,” Rhodey said. He wished now that he had gone for the microwave option; he stared hard at the milk barely beginning to boil on the stove. Perhaps the heat of his gaze would help it to boil faster.</p><p>Vision was silent again, but Rhodey knew better than to think that meant that Vision had accepted his words.</p><p>“Look, I don’t blame <em>you</em> for this,” he said, gesturing down at his legs. “I don’t blame anyone. If I <em>were</em> going to, then I’d blame Ross for starting this whole shitshow, or Rogers for being an idiot and a hothead. But I’ve done a lot of missions for the Air Force, and as War Machine. Every fighter knows that it could be their last. Injuries like mine suck, but it could have been worse. I’m still alive, and with Tony’s help I’m still kicking.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out again in a heavy exhale. “It could have been <em>much</em> worse,” he repeated, softly.</p><p>To be honest, in those brief, terrifying, <em>eternal</em> seconds when he’d been in freefall inside a dead armour, he’d been fully convinced it <em>was</em> going to be worse. It hadn’t been the first time his transport had abruptly died on him, but at least in a plane or chopper he’d had a parachute, and the ability to bail out of the falling aircraft.</p><p>As far as he knew, nobody had told Tony yet, but the doctors had had to sedate him several times in those first few days at the hospital, because he’d constantly wake up screaming from the memory of falling.</p><p>Obviously, he’d been relieved to wake up at all, but he was also relieved for Tony’s sake, too. If he hadn’t, he was fairly certain that the fight in Siberia would have gone <em>quite</em> differently.</p><p>A hand reaching past him to rescue the now over-boiling milk startled him. Vision carefully poured the chocolate into the waiting mug and handed it to Rhodey. “Your drink, Colonel,” he said. He turned to place the saucepan into the sink as Rhodey took a careful sip of his hot chocolate. “I shall reflect on what you said regarding Miss Maximoff and her actions,” the android added abruptly.</p><p>Rhodey nodded at him. “You do that,” he agreed. “And Viz, if you have any questions, any at all? You can come to me or Tony. You know that, right? We’ll do the best we can to help.”</p><p>Vision inclined his head in acknowledgement and began drifting back towards the hole in the floor. “Thank you, Colonel,” he murmured as Rhodey made his own way back towards his room. “I appreciate that.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I Have No Hat To Put On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wondered, sometimes, how he’d know if he was human. Wanda had treated him as human at first, but she’d had no compunction about sending him through several floors of the Compound to ‘escape’. Would she have done the same or similar to another of her teammates?</p>
<p>Tony treated him as human, too – when he could stand looking at him at all – but he treated all of his creations, bots and AI alike, as if they were human, and part of one <em>had</em> gone into creating <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>Perhaps if he was human, Vision reflected, he’d be able to put a name to this sensation in his chest every time he looked at Tony now.</p>
<p>It was a pulling, tightening feeling. The first time it had occurred, Vision had wondered if something had gone wrong, if his physical form had begun to fail. But all of his internal scans had come back negative, as had FRIDAY’s external ones, and the feeling had eventually eased enough that he could ignore it, although he kept a vague thought to tracking it.</p>
<p>He felt a similar sensation whenever he caught sight of Colonel Rhodes. This, at least, he could put a name to: Guilt. He had been the direct cause of the Colonel’s injury, because he had been distracted by Wanda and hadn’t anticipated the Falcon’s evasive manoeuvring. It was extremely fortunate, as the Colonel himself acknowledged, that he hadn’t been injured in a worse manner.</p>
<p>Guilt was not the emotion that Vision had hoped to know first – he’d rather been hoping for, and believed he’d found, that feeling that the remnant of JARVIS whispered was <em>love</em> – but he supposed he had to start <em>somewhere</em>.</p>
<p>He was stood over the hole in the kitchen yet again, several nights after his talk with Colonel Rhodes, when the sound of shuffling footsteps alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.</p>
<p>“Vision? What are you doing up?” Tony asked. He looked as though he’d spent several hours in bed tossing and turning, his hair a complete mess.</p>
<p>“Contemplating where I made the wrong decisions,” Vision replied. He glanced over at Tony, who frowned back at him. “I wonder whether there were signs that I missed, that could have led to a different outcome.”</p>
<p>Tony sighed and slumped against the nearest counter. The mug he’d been carrying dangled from his fingers. “Viz, what happened here was <em>not your fault</em>,” he said, firmly. “It was on Maximoff, and Clint for encouraging her.”</p>
<p>Vision turned to face him properly and was just in time to catch the mug when it dropped. Tony fumbled, trying to catch it at the same time, and winced as the movement jostled him. It had been several weeks since he’d returned home, but his ribs were still healing. Unlike certain super soldiers, he didn’t have a faster healing rate.</p>
<p>“If I had just explained better,” Vision continued, but paused when Tony raised a hand.</p>
<p>“You were not the only one who could have explained,” said Tony. “For god’s sake, Viz, <em>I</em> was the one who asked you to keep her here in the first place. The least I could have done was told her exactly <em>why</em>. Told her that the people out there—” he gestured in a way that Vision took to mean the world outside the Compound “—were out for her blood or her head after Lagos.”</p>
<p>“‘I cannot control their fear, only my own’,” said Vision, softly.</p>
<p>Tony frowned at him. “What?”</p>
<p>“Something Miss Maximoff said, when the news broke about Lagos. ‘I cannot control their fear, only my own’.” Vision glanced down and away, catching sight of the hole again in his peripheral. “I suppose… remaining here, in the Compound, would have helped to control their fear.”</p>
<p>Tony snorted. “Yeah, she might not have been able to control other people’s <em>fear</em>, but she <em>could</em> control her <em>actions</em> which led to that fear,” he pointed out. “If she really wanted people to not fear her, then she’d stop messing with their minds.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vision frowned. He’d not thought of that particular point before. “You are… not incorrect,” he said, finally. “I will think on it for a while.” He looked up at Tony again, studying him carefully. “What are you doing up?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Nightmares.” Tony gave him a wan smile. “Nothing unusual in that, right? So I was planning to get some coffee and head back down to the workshop. Rhodey’s braces won’t fix themselves.”</p>
<p>Vision placed the mug he was still holding back on the counter beside Tony. “No, they won’t,” he agreed, stepping back to allow Tony room. “But if you collapse because you have not been looking after yourself, then they won’t be fixed anyway.”</p>
<p>Tony looked stricken, and Vision wished he’d taken more care to think before speaking. He hadn’t meant to upset Tony anymore than he obviously already was.</p>
<p>“Colonel Rhodes is quite happy with the current iteration of the braces that he has,” he said, attempting a gentler tone. He wasn’t altogether sure that he managed it. Studying human emotions was all very well but putting them into practice was something else completely. He was learning, but so very slowly. “He won’t mind if any upgrades are delayed for a while.”</p>
<p>“I-I’ll think about it,” Tony managed to stutter out, and then he slid around Vision and was gone.</p>
<p>Without getting any coffee.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He knew, of course, that the three of them were not the only people in the building. Even leaving aside the staff that came in to clean and to leave groceries for them, there was also a surprise occupant in the person of one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier. Or as former as one could be having been that persona for seven decades.</p>
<p>Knowing that Sergeant Barnes occupied the Compound was more of a theoretical idea, as the man kept himself very much to himself and rarely strayed more than a few feet from the rooms that Tony had offered him.</p>
<p>He was learning to find himself again, FRIDAY told Vision, much as he was. Much as they all were, now that the dust from the so-called Civil War was settling.</p>
<p>So it was no small surprise when, one night when Vision was yet again contemplating the hole in the kitchen floor, he suddenly became aware of a shadow behind him.</p>
<p>“Sergeant Barnes,” he greeted the other resident. “Are you in need of assistance?”</p>
<p>The shadow shuffled closer and resolved itself into the figure of a man. The Sergeant looked almost as bad as Tony did; unshaven, dark circles beneath his eyes, cringing and flinching as though the entire world scared him.</p>
<p>“No.” The word was a croak, and the Sergeant cleared his throat before trying again. “No,” he repeated. “I was just . . . I couldn’t sleep. So I thought—” He trailed off. Vision politely waited, but it appeared that Sergeant Barnes had used up all his words for the moment.</p>
<p>“I know Tony drinks coffee at all hours of the day and night, but Colonel Rhodes prefers hot chocolate when he is unable to sleep at night. Should I prepare some for you?” he offered.</p>
<p>Sergeant Barnes considered this for a moment, then hesitantly nodded. “Please,” he mouthed.</p>
<p>It was very odd, but Vision found himself reluctant to step back from the hole in the floor. He had to, especially if he was to make hot chocolate, but it was much more difficult than he’d expected it to be to turn his back on the damaged floor.</p>
<p>As he took a jerky stride towards the stove, Sergeant Barnes indicated the hole with a tilt of his chin and cocked his head at Vision questioningly. Vision was well aware of what the Sergeant wanted to know, but found himself struggling for the words. No wonder Tony scoffed at Colonel Rhodes every time the Colonel suggested he find somebody to talk to.</p>
<p>“When Mr Barton came to fetch Miss Maximoff,” he began, finally, “Tony had strongly suggested that she stay inside the Compound, to avoid people’s anger after the events in Lagos. She had agreed, at first, but when Mr Barton arrived…” The words dried up, and Vision pretended that getting the hot chocolate ready was taking up his mental processes. “I should have explained more thoroughly,” he said, so softly as to be inaudible.</p>
<p>To normal ears, at least.</p>
<p>Sergeant Barnes shuffled his feet. “Seems like an overreaction,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.</p>
<p>Vision paused. An overreaction. Nobody had put it quite like that before. But yes, perhaps it did fit. He <em>hadn’t</em> explained things properly to Wanda – Miss Maximoff – but surely there had been other ways of incapacitating him to allow Miss Maximoff and Mr Barton to leave the premises. Even if it still resulted in her sending him crashing through the floor, it needn’t have been so <em>many</em> of them.</p>
<p>And – now that he was really thinking the situation over again – Mr Barton had not needed to break into the Compound to fetch Miss Maximoff, either. His access had not been restricted or denied when he’d retired, so he could have just entered via the front door in the usual manner.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Vision finally said to Sergeant Barnes, turning back to preparing the hot chocolate. “I think you’re right. It <em>was</em> an overreaction.”</p>
<p>He did not stand guard over the hole again that night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Uh, Vision? When did we get a piano?”</p>
<p>Vision looked up from the baby grand piano he was sitting at. “It was delivered yesterday morning,” he informed Tony, who was stood in the doorway looking baffled.</p>
<p>Tony took a step into the room, looking askance at the piano. “Did… did we <em>know</em> it was being delivered? Beforehand, I mean?” he asked, cautiously. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a moment, the question baffled Vision as much as Tony obviously was. Then a vague remembrance of previous deliveries that had appeared during or after a drunken or drug-fuelled blackout floated to the top of his memory.</p>
<p>“You needn’t worry,” Vision assured Tony, smiling at the other man. “I purchased this piano, so yes, we knew it was being delivered beforehand.”</p>
<p>“Oh, good.” Tony swiped a hand over his brow in mock relief. “Pepper would <em>not</em> have been pleased if she discovered I bought another big item without her knowledge.”</p>
<p>Something <em>ping</em>ed deep in Vision’s consciousness. He tilted his head, puzzled again. “Why do I have the image of an exceedingly large, pink rabbit?” he asked.</p>
<p>Tony gaped at him, and then blushed, closing his eyes in obvious embarrassment. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I can’t believe you remember that. I can’t believe <em>JARVIS</em> remembered that! I told him to flush it from his memory banks!” He hid his face in his hands.</p>
<p>Vision actually found himself laughing out loud. Tony peeked up through his fingers at him, and tentatively smiled in return. “I bought the piano,” Vision reiterated. “I decided it might be a good idea for me to learn to play it.”</p>
<p>Tony lowered his hands, his smile edging towards a more genuine one. “Really?” he asked. “How’s that coming?”</p>
<p>Vision lifted a hand and tilted it in a motion he’d seen others using. “Some pieces are better than others,” he admitted. “I am capable of learning what the notes mean, but when it comes to putting them into practise…” He winced as he remembered his first attempt. He’d been so sure that he’d learnt the meaning of the dots and notations well enough, but the first song he’d attempted had sounded nothing like the version that FRIDAY had played for him.</p>
<p>“Well—” Tony was edging further and further into the room, his eyes darting between Vision and the piano. “If you want, I could teach you?” he offered, hesitantly. “At least a bit? My mom used to play the piano when I was little.”</p>
<p>“I would be most appreciative,” said Vision. He slid sideways to make room for Tony on the bench.</p>
<p>The other man gingerly seated himself and flexed his fingers in the air before placing them gently on the ivory keys. “Now,” he began, “a beginner’s scale goes like this…”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Vision was cooking – or rather, he was <em>attempting</em> to cook – when footsteps heralded the arrival of Sergeant Barnes. He was sniffing the air, although Vision couldn’t tell whether his expression was pleased or disgusted.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” the Sergeant asked, peeking over Vision’s shoulder at the mess that was rapidly congealing in the saucepan.</p>
<p>Vision sighed in frustration. This had been his fifth attempt at what FRIDAY had promised was a fairly simple recipe and yet it, like the attempts before it, were not coming out well. Or edible.</p>
<p>“I am attempting to cook a stew,” he admitted. “But it is not going well.”</p>
<p>Sergeant Barnes reached around him to tilt one of the spice jars for a better look. “No wonder,” he said. “This is aniseed. It doesn’t belong anywhere near a stew. I can . . . show you, if you like?”</p>
<p>“I would be grateful,” said Vision, taking his latest attempt off the stove and regarding it mournfully. “I do not think this is suitable for anything other than the waste bin. If I make too many more attempts like this, then we shall shortly run out of usable saucepans.”</p>
<p>The Sergeant made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a bitten off laugh. “Why are you attempting to cook, anyway?” he asked as he reached for a new pan and studied the pitiful amount of vegetables that still remained.</p>
<p>“Colonel Rhodes ventured the opinion that we have too much takeout,” replied Vision. He watched intently as Sergeant Barnes picked over the vegetables, tossing aside one or two that had looked perfectly fine to Vision.</p>
<p>“And so you decided to learn how to cook?” Sergeant Barnes asked, glancing at Vision from the corner of his eye. He passed a knife and several carrots over. “Here, slice these up. Thick slices, don’t matter if they aren’t all even.”</p>
<p>Vision obediently took the items and did as told. “I believe that Tony actually offered to cook something first, but Colonel Rhodes vetoed that. He muttered something about having finally gotten off the Christmas list of something called the CDC?”</p>
<p>Unexpectedly, Sergeant Barnes burst into laughter.</p>
<p>Vision paused to stare at him in bemusement. That had been FRIDAY’s reaction, too, when he’d informed her of the conversation some time afterwards. She had informed him that the CDC stood for the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention but hadn’t explained the joke to him.</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay, so no to Stark ever cooking anything then,” said Sergeant Barnes eventually, when he’d calmed down.</p>
<p>“I do not understand why, but apparently not,” Vision agreed, resuming his carrot chopping. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Sergeant tipped a handful of chopped… <em>something</em> into the saucepan. “Means that Stark can’t cook worth a damn,” he said. “He’d be more likely to accidentally poison you all.”</p>
<p>“Ah.” Vision tilted his head to examine the carrots. “Are these acceptable?”</p>
<p>Sergeant Barnes glanced over. “Yep, those are perfect,” he said, and swept them off the counter into the saucepan as well. “What kinda meat do ya have?”</p>
<p>“There is still some beef remaining,” Vision told him. “And I believe some ham, too.”</p>
<p>“Well, then.” Sergeant Barnes gave him a shy smile. “Why don’t we use the ham to finish this stew, and then I’ll teach you how to make a beef casserole.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Have No Gloves To Put On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had to be a dream. A rather odd dream, since he couldn’t remember ever wanting anything like this, but then again, he couldn’t remember much of . . . <em>anything</em>.</p>
<p>So he was forced to conclude that living here, in the Avengers Compound, this huge place that was spacious and airy, with a brand new metal arm made by Tony Stark, Iron Man himself and the man whose parents he’d killed, was not a dream but was, somehow, his reality.</p>
<p>It was a good thing, James-Bucky-James-<em>Barnes</em> thought to himself, that he already felt lost and confused on an almost constant basis, otherwise he’d <em>really</em> feel lost and confused.</p>
<p>At this particular moment, he was scouting the main common area. Despite the fact he knew full well it was vigorously guarded by a number of measures – not least of which was Stark’s incredible FRIDAY – the sheer number of large clear glass windows made him twitchy and nervous. Stark and FRIDAY had both assured him that the glass was actually a one-way glass, but that didn’t convince his hindbrain that <em>just because he could see out of it didn’t mean that others could see in through it as well</em>.</p>
<p>“Sergeant Barnes, it has been almost 48 hours since you last slept,” FRIDAY informed him when he circled past the windows for the third time in twenty minutes. “Would you prefer if I darkened the windows at night?”</p>
<p>Yes. No. Yes. Possibly?</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he admitted, shoulders slumping. He <em>hated</em> this, this indecision. But he’d spent seventy years with other people telling him what to do, where to go, what to feel (nothing; Assets shouldn’t feel a thing), and now that he was able to make his own choices, he just . . . froze.</p>
<p>FRIDAY apparently made the decision for him, as the windows slowly got darker until all he could see was his own reflection. “Is that better, Sergeant?” she queried.</p>
<p>He didn’t know. Now his instincts were screaming that anyone could be waiting on the other side of the glass, ready to fire a heavy missile through it, or heavy ballistics, or even just a plain old heavy rock. And he wouldn’t know. Nobody would know until the glass shattered and whoever had the misfortune to be in the way was lying on the floor, either in pieces or bleeding to death.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said anyway. It paid to be courteous, even if Steve had told him it was just a machine. He’d seen the ‘machines’ Stark had in his workshop when he’d been down there for maintenance on his arm, and there was no way that those living, moving robots could ever be classified as “just” anything. So if FRIDAY was more advanced than them – as everyone had told him so – then it followed that she was much closer to a person, and deserved to be treated as such.</p>
<p>“Hey, who turned off the view?”</p>
<p>He did <em>not</em> jump at the unexpected voice behind him. He was the Asset, the Soldat, he had been a top-notch assassin, damn it.</p>
<p>But – somehow – Tony Stark had managed to sneak up on him.</p>
<p>Stark seemed just as surprised by his surprise. But he wasn’t turning and fleeing in screaming terror, so Barnes would take that as a win. Although, <em>he</em> might still do that, so maybe not.</p>
<p>“Uh, I’m afraid that was me. Because of me,” he corrected himself. He glanced over his shoulder at the windows.</p>
<p>“Ah.” Stark sounded a lot more understanding than Barnes thought he should do. “The open glass making you nervous?” The engineer nodded. “The Spy Twins didn’t like it, either. But I’m sure FRIDAY told you that it’s one-way glass. Nobody, and certainly not the paparazzi, can see in.”</p>
<p><em>Paparazzi.</em> That meant . . . journalists, didn’t it? “Do you get many of those out here?” Barnes asked. He could see them being interested in Stark – god knew, the man never seemed to be out of the news – but surely the rest of them weren’t that news-worthy.</p>
<p>Stark grinned at him. It was a predator’s grin, all sharp teeth. “Not anymore,” he said.</p>
<p>Barnes found himself momentarily breathless. He had a vague feeling that he’d never been one to go for the ‘damsels in distress’ types. Steve had mentioned a couple of times that he’d always gone for strong dames. This . . . was just more of the same, never mind that it was a fella, instead. He wanted to see more of that grin, he wanted to feel that shark’s grin against his skin.</p>
<p>It was unexpected, and Barnes mentally reeled back from the discovery. He shouldn’t be feeling like <em>that</em> for <em>Stark</em>. For god’s sake, he’d killed the man’s parents! He’d caused the man to be beaten down and three-quarters killed himself by someone he’d called friend.</p>
<p>“I-I-I have to go,” he stuttered out, and all but ran from the room, taking care to ensure he didn’t touch Stark as he manoeuvred past him.</p>
<p>He ignored the small, confused “What?” that came from behind him.</p><hr/>
<p>It was surprisingly easy to avoid people in the Compound. Mostly helped by the fact that there were only four of them actually living there in a space that had been built to house at least a dozen people, if not more.</p>
<p>Which meant that when Colonel Rhodes stumbled across him, it was obvious that he’d been looking for Barnes.</p>
<p>“Sergeant,” the other man greeted him.</p>
<p>“Colonel,” he replied, cautiously. He knew about War Machine and its capabilities – HYDRA had kept a very careful file on it, just in case they were ever in a position to get their hands on it – but he knew next to nothing about the man who’d flown it. Stark had rated his own file; he was a genius in his own right even before he built the Iron Man armour, but James Rhodes had been reduced to a mere sentence in a footnote in Stark’s file: <em>“Stark’s best friend, leverage potential over 90%”</em>.</p>
<p>“You settling in okay?” Rhodes asked. He carefully walked over to the nearest chair and sank into it with a small sigh of relief.</p>
<p>Barnes wondered what Rhodes actually wanted to know. Surely he wouldn’t actually care about whether the Winter Soldier was comfortable or not. “It’s… getting better,” he said, hesitantly.</p>
<p>Rhodes met his gaze squarely. Barnes could see why he was Stark’s best friend. Despite the hijinks the pair had reportedly gotten up to at various points in time, the man was as steady as a rock. A good foundation for a genius to anchor himself to and bounce off.</p>
<p>“You know Tony’s forgiven you, right?” Rhodes settled back in the chair, arms casually resting along the arms, leaving himself open if Barnes decided to attack him. It was a remarkable show of trust, and Barnes didn’t feel like he deserved it. “You wouldn’t be allowed within a hundred miles of this place if he hadn’t.”</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t,” he admitted in a whisper. “He shouldn’t forgive me. No matter what Steve said, <em>I did it</em>. I killed his parents.”</p>
<p>Rhodes nodded. “He knows. He <em>also</em> knows that you wouldn’t have done it, if you’d had an actual choice and the wherewithal to make it. Tony’s not into victim shaming.”</p>
<p><em>But I’m not a victim.</em> The words got stuck in his throat.</p>
<p>Rhodes nodded again and began getting to his feet. “You’ll see,” he said. One corner of his mouth tipped up into what could generously be called a smile. “You can come out of the shadows, Barnes. No need to hide there anymore.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>The words echoed around his head for days, no matter what he did to try and avoid or dispel them.</p>
<p>They echoed as he slunk around the perimeter, ensuring they were safe.</p>
<p>They echoed as he foraged in the kitchen late at night or early in the morning.</p>
<p>They echoed as he watched Vision, Rhodes and Stark from the shadows.</p>
<p>The three of them had their own shadows, but they were all helping each other to step out of them now. He’d even interacted with Vision a couple of times, showing the android how to cook things that wouldn’t poison everyone; since as Rhodes said, one poisoner in the building was enough.</p>
<p>Perhaps… perhaps he really <em>could</em> come out of the shadows himself. Even with the HYDRA triggers removed from his mind thanks to Stark and the Wakandan technicians, he had still been lost and confused and unsure of himself and his place in the world. Maybe it was time he started trying to find his way back again.</p>
<p>The resolution took firm root as he stood in one of the outside gardens, gazing upwards at the sky. Out here, far away from any main cities, the sky looked just as it had done back in the ‘40s when he and Steve had lived in Brooklyn. No great swathes of light to hide the understated dignity of the stars. He could possibly, he thought, learn to shine again himself.</p>
<p>The deliberate scuff of a footstep caused him to tense, but he didn’t flee, or turn to fight, and considered that a success.</p>
<p>“Barnes,” Stark’s voice came from the darkness. “Couldn’t sleep either?”</p>
<p>“No.” He glanced over as Stark came to a halt some feet away from him, obviously being careful to not give him the feeling of being boxed in. “The serum… it causes me to sleep less anyway, even when I don’t have nightmares.”</p>
<p>Stark nodded. “Right. Steve had the same problem,” he said, absently raising the mug he held to his mouth. “He used to spend the early hours drawing or working out. What kind of hobbies did you used to have?”</p>
<p>He tried to think about that but drew a blank. “I don’t remember,” he admitted. He turned his head away, ashamed. What kind of person didn’t even remember what they liked to do for fun?</p>
<p>“The kind that wasn’t allowed to have it for seventy years,” Stark said, and he realised that he must have asked his question out loud. He grimaced at himself. He had <em>not</em> meant to do that! He hadn’t even realised it was something he <em>could</em> do anymore. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped. Stark made an aborted movement, as though he’d planned to remove the touch but then decided against it. “Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” he soothed. “You’ve only been free for a little while. You’ll learn what you do and don’t like again. Just give it time, yeah?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How will I know how much time to give it?” Barnes asked, turning his head to meet Stark’s gaze. “What length of time will determine whether I’ll ever learn what makes me who I am? Or was.”</p>
<p>Stark’s grip tightened. “Jesus, what was Steve telling you?” he demanded. “Look, Bucky, there’s no specific time for <em>any</em> of this, okay? You’ll try some things, learn if you like them or not, then try different things. People find new hobbies all the time, even into old age. It’s not like they’re fixed by a certain point and then you’re stuck with them.”</p>
<p>He turned the thought over in his mind. Yes, perhaps it was time for him to come out of the shadows and learn who he was in the light.</p><hr/>
<p>Soft piano music drew his attention just a couple of nights after his conversation with Stark. He followed the sound of it until he found a small-ish – at least compared to the overall size of the Compound – room with a baby grand piano in it. Stark and Vision were sitting on the stool, Stark watching intently while Vision carefully and precisely played . . . something. Rhodes was sitting in a chair against the wall, his eyes closed but head tilted towards the piano, obviously listening.</p>
<p>Barnes hovered in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to spoil what was obviously a friendly gathering, but then Stark happened to glance up and spot him.</p>
<p>“Bucky!” he exclaimed, delightedly. “Come on in!”</p>
<p>“Pull up a chair,” Rhodes added, opening his eyes to nod at Barnes. “Viz is giving us a concert of the pieces he’s learnt.”</p>
<p>“There aren’t many, I’m afraid,” said Vision, apologetically, as the piece he’d been playing came to an end. “It takes so long to learn how some of the longer pieces should sound.”</p>
<p>Stark gripped Vision’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Honestly, Viz, you’re doing great,” he said. “I told you, you’re coming on much faster than most people who’ve just started learning.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, man, music is <em>hard</em>,” agreed Rhodes. He smirked at Stark. “Remember that guy at MIT who lived in the dorm across the hall from us in, what was it? Junior year? The one who thought he was going to make it big as a rock star?”</p>
<p>Stark groaned and shook his head. “Ugh, don’t remind me,” he complained. “That guy <em>loved</em> to practice on his electric guitar at, like, 2am, and he always had his amplifier turned up as far as it’d go.”</p>
<p>“Trouble was, he was a terrible player,” Rhodes explained. “Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, as my Mama would have said. So many people complained, he got his equipment confiscated.”</p>
<p>“Actually, somebody broke in, stole it all, and chucked it in the nearest body of water,” Stark corrected.</p>
<p>Rhodes grinned knowingly at him. “And you’ve no idea who, right?”</p>
<p>Stark sniffed haughtily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I was an honest, law-abiding student—” He couldn’t continue, as Rhodes burst into gales of laughter and almost fell off his chair. Stark didn’t seem too offended, though, as he was soon laughing as well. Vision smiled hesitantly at them, although Barnes wasn’t sure if that was because he found it funny as well, or if he was just amused by the antics of the other two men.</p>
<p>Eventually, Stark coughed and straightened up. “Right then,” he said, turning back to Vision and the piano. “You seem to have that one down pretty well. Want to go on to the next one?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I think so,” Vision agreed.</p>
<p>“Budge over, then.” Stark bumped Vision’s shoulder as he edged over so that he was sitting more to the centre of the keys. “Here, this is how it should sound.”</p>
<p>The sound that came from the piano was glorious, the most beautiful thing Barnes thought he’d ever heard. The soaring melody vibrated right through him, lifting him to heights that he was fairly sure he’d never experienced before, even before the seventy years of depravity at HYDRA’s hands. It felt good, clean . . . <em>pure</em>.</p>
<p>If this was what was waiting for him in the light, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to leave the shadows behind after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I Have No Coat To Put On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If anyone had asked him, whilst he was lying half dead and three quarters frozen in the wastelands of Siberia, Tony would have said that there was absolutely <em>no way</em> he would <em>ever</em> allow the Winter Soldier into his home, let alone <em>invite</em> him.</p><p>And yet, that’s almost exactly what had happened.</p><p>Wakanda had managed to mostly remove the triggers from his brain whilst in cryostasis, but they hadn’t been able to do it <em>all</em> and so had requested that Barnes be allowed to use Tony’s BARF technology. The problem with that had been the fact that Barnes had been a wanted fugitive, and consequently unable to set foot outside of Wakanda, let alone <em>in</em> America.</p><p>Someone, somewhere, though had been an intrepid little law student, and had pointed out that Bucky Barnes had never actually been arrested for any major crime. His only crime, in this time and under his own name, had been resisting the Task Force officers that had tried to bring him in for questioning, and, arguably, it had been Ste-<em>Rogers’</em> fault that he’d done so.</p><p>And so, for the moment – until the UN decided what it was going to do about the Winter Soldier’s crimes – Barnes was free and clear to travel back to America, to use Tony’s tech and be housed in his Compound.</p><p>It had actually been… not as difficult as Tony had expected. Of course he’d had several nights where he awoke screaming, his mom’s last gasp ringing in his ears, and catching sight of things out of the corner of his eye tended to make him flinch, which in turn jostled his healing ribs, but Barnes himself had mostly stayed out of sight, so Tony was mostly able to keep him out of mind.</p><p>But with only the four of them living in the Compound, and with Tony spending more hours than was probably wise going through all the information that Romanov had dumped onto the internet, obviously the situation couldn’t last forever, and Bucky began making tentative steps out of the shadows.</p><p>Which meant that when Bucky turned up outside the workshop one day, Tony didn’t immediately fall head-first into a panic attack.</p><p>“Freezer pop!” he greeted, instead. Then, immediately after, “No, urgh, scratch that one.” He’d been trying to find nicknames for Bucky, like the ones he had for Rhodey, but it’d only been a week and certain things just didn’t ring true for either of them. Bucky had nixed Winter Wonderland and Soldja Boy, and Tony himself couldn’t even manage to <em>finish</em> the word Popsicle without his heart attempting to bang itself out of his newly strengthened ribcage. “What brings you into my lair?”</p><p>“Um—” Bucky’s gaze was firmly fixed on Dum-E and U, who were supposedly ‘cleaning’ at the other end of the workshop but in reality were just making even more of a mess. He lifted his flesh hand to point vaguely in their direction. “You… you have robots?” he asked.</p><p>Tony tipped his head to one side. “Yes. Yes, I do,” he said, then called over his shoulder, “Dum-E! U! Come over here; I’ve got someone new for you to meet!”</p><p>The two ‘bots glanced up and over at them. U glanced back down at his ‘work’, but Dum-E gave an enthusiastic beep, dropped the broom, and raced over to where Bucky was standing. Bucky looked slightly alarmed – Tony couldn’t blame him for that. Dum-E’s body was big and bulky; anybody with any sense would be alarmed if <em>that</em> came racing at them with no signs that it planned to stop before running them over – but, in true Howling Commandos, Winter Soldier and <em>Steve Rogers</em> style, Bucky didn’t take a healthy step back but stood his ground.</p><p>Dum-E halted so suddenly he almost tipped over. Both Bucky and Tony instinctively lunged for him, but the ‘bot managed to rock himself backwards without their help, bouncing a little as he landed back on his rear wheels. Dum-E let out a string of beeps and whistles, and reached his own claw out towards Bucky’s arm.</p><p>“Woah, now, gently!” Tony warned, just as Dum-E’s claw wrapped itself around Bucky’s wrist. “That part of him may be made of metal, but the rest of him isn’t.”</p><p>“’s okay,” Bucky said, smiling dopily at the ‘bot. “He’s just saying hello, right?”</p><p>“He is.” Tony leant back against the nearest worktable. “This is Dum-E. He’s my oldest ‘bot, so he’s a bit… special. And I’m sure you didn’t come down here to be fawned over, so what’s up, Buckaboo?”</p><p>Bucky winced a bit at the name but made no protest. He wiggled the arm free from Dum-E’s grip and held it out so Tony could see the hand. “The thumb’s jammed,” he explained. “Don’t know what happened, and I can’t unstick it.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Tony took hold of the limb and twisted it from side to side as he studied the mechanical digit. “Dum-E, fetch the toolkit that’s on shelf 21A,” he said, absently, and the ‘bot beeped wildly and zoomed off. Bucky watched him go, his expression still awe-struck. It was no less awe-struck when Dum-E raced back carrying a bucket.</p><p>Tony glanced at the ‘bot and sighed in resignation. “That’s a <em>bucket</em>, you heap of rusty bolts,” he said. “How am I supposed to mend Terminator’s arm with that? Go and fetch the <em>toolkit</em>!” He shook his head as Dum-E beeped mournfully and trundled off again. “I should donate him to the remains of SHIELD,” he said. “They’d deserve it.”</p><p>“He’s <em>brilliant</em>,” breathed Bucky. His head swivelled to take in the entire workshop again. “<em>Everything</em> here is just… unbelievable.”</p><p>Tony glanced up and met his gaze. “You were in Wakanda,” he pointed out. “They’ve got tech that’s years ahead of mine.”</p><p>Bucky managed an awkward, one-armed shrug. “That’s kinda the thing,” he said. “Tech there’s <em>too</em> advanced; it’s nothing I’d ever even <em>heard</em> of before and it sort of comes across like magic. But yours—” He turned to look at where one of the holograms was showing off a blueprint, waiting for Tony to pull it apart and adjust it. “Yours reminds me of the flying car we saw at the Expo, you know? Yours really is ‘the future’.”</p><p>“I’d hope that mine works a <em>bit</em> better than Dad’s attempt at a flying car,” Tony eventually managed to get out around the lump in his throat.</p><p>Bucky chuckled as Dum-E finally returned with the requested toolkit. “Well,” he said, “couldn’t be any <em>worse</em>!”</p><p>Tony took the kit from the ‘bot and began to spread it out on the worktable beside them. “Oh, my friend,” he began, and pretended to ignore the startled look Bucky shot him at that. “Let me tell you all about my first proper tests of the Iron Man armour…”</p>
<hr/><p>“Hey, Viz—whoops, am I interrupting?”</p><p>Vision looked up at Tony from where he was seated cross-legged on the lawn. “Not at all,” he said, calmly. “I was merely meditating. I know it’s not your ‘thing’, but you can join me if you like.”</p><p>“Meditating?” Tony dropped to the ground beside him. Thankfully, he was wearing jeans, so a few grass stains didn’t matter. Not that wearing suit trousers would have stopped him, but his dry-cleaner would have had a few things to say about it.</p><p>“Yes.” Vision closed his eyes again and tipped his face upwards to the sky. “My research showed that this was a good method to help sort out thoughts and feelings that I am unsure of.”</p><p>Tony shrugged, but leant back on his elbows to enjoy the sun himself. “Couldn’t tell ya,” he said. “I know Bruce did it, but I’ve never had the patience for it; always got too many ideas running around. Is it working for you?”</p><p>Vision tilted his head as he thought about it. “Yes, and no,” he said eventually. “It does allow me quiet time to organise my thoughts, but it doesn’t help to bring clarity regarding human emotions.”</p><p>Tony snorted. “If you ever work that out, you’ll make a fortune,” he said. He turned his head to look at the android. “Viz, <em>nobody</em> fully understands human emotions, not even us humans. We’re just very good at <em>pretending</em> we do.”</p><p>“I see,” said Vision, slowly. “FRIDAY did say something of the sort to me.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Tony reached over to pat Vision comfortingly on the shoulder. “No-one will expect you to get these things right, anyway, so don’t put pressure on yourself.”</p><p>“But if it allows me to fit in better—” Vision began.</p><p>Tony cut him off with a bark of laughter. “Sorry, Viz,” he chuckled. “But standing out is the new fitting in. And with all the political correctness changing day by day, then it wouldn’t matter anyway. As the kids are saying nowadays, you do you, Viz.”</p><p>Vision frowned in bemusement. “I… do me?” he repeated, uncertainly.</p><p>“Yeah. As far as I’ve gathered, it means that if something’s right for you, then screw anyone else telling you different. You don’t have to follow the crowd and be ‘normal’ if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“I don’t think I know what my normal is yet,” Vision admitted.</p><p>“Give it time. You’re still young, Viz,” said Tony, smiling at him. A sudden beep sounded, and Tony jumped. “Damn, is it that time already?” he asked, looking at his watch. “Sorry, Viz, I’ve got a meeting to get to.”</p><p>Vision inclined his head. “Of course,” he agreed. “I shall remain here and continue meditating.”</p><p>Tony got to his feet and dusted himself off before heading back towards the Compound. “Have fun!” he called back over his shoulder.</p>
<hr/><p>Tony entered the main common lounge area to discover Rhodey sitting on one of the couches, feet up on a nearby coffee table, and a large bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap.</p><p>“Honeybear!” he gasped in mock offence. “Were you actually planning to watch a movie <em>without me</em>?”</p><p>Rhodey gave him a sideways glance, then looked down at the bowl of popcorn, then up at the TV screen that was currently scrolling through a list of film titles. “Sure looks that way, doesn’t it?” he said, and tossed a kernel of popcorn into his mouth.</p><p>“<em>Rude</em>!” Tony informed him, grinning, then he dropped onto the seat beside Rhodey. “What are we watching then?” He reached for the popcorn bowl.</p><p>Rhodey snatched it out of his reach. “Get your own,” he suggested. “And I was thinking of Who Framed Roger Rabbit.”</p><p>“Who framed who now?”</p><p>The voice came from the doorway, and both men looked over to find Bucky hovering there, looking as though he wished he hadn’t spoken at all.</p><p>“Ooh, you’ll love it! It’s a classic!” Tony enthused. He sprang back up off the couch and headed for the kitchen, gesturing at Bucky to sit on the couch as he did so. “Go sit; I’ll get snacks for us all. Hey, FRI?” he added. “Ask Viz if he wants to join us.”</p><p>“He’d be delighted,” FRIDAY said after a short pause.</p><p>“Wonderful. Get Who Framed Roger Rabbit queued up, baby girl, but don’t start it yet.” Tony rummaged through the various cupboards and eventually emerged victorious with a variety of snacks. He was actually quite surprised at the variety; he hadn’t thought any of them had been in the mood to request things like that, but either FRIDAY had been thinking ahead, or they’d gradually been ordering a few and just not eating them.</p><p>On his way back, juggling both snacks and drinks, Tony paused in the kitchen doorway. Bucky had placed himself at the end of the couch, with an entire cushion’s worth of space between him and Rhodey. It looked rather as though he was trying to merge himself with the arm of it, but he didn’t show any signs that he was about to cut and run. It was a long, slow process, having to come to terms with things you’d done in the past; God knew Tony knew all about that. But although he still had his moments – not surprising, considering he had seventy years of trauma to overcome – Bucky appeared to be well and truly coming out of his shell. Idly, Tony wondered whether Rogers would have appreciated this new personality, or whether he would have just mourned the loss of the old one.</p><p>Vision had arrived sometime while he’d been in the kitchen, and now sat on Rhodey’s other side. He still sat rather stiffly – he hadn’t yet learnt the joys of a good slouch – but was conversing animatedly with Rhodey and Bucky. Rhodey was apparently explaining something, hands waving wildly through the air. He was so involved in it that he’d forgotten to guard his bowl of popcorn. To Tony’s amusement, both Bucky and Vision were sneakily taking pieces from it.</p><p>“Hey!” Rhodey protested, once he finally ran down and noticed that his bowl was now empty. “C’mon, man, <em>not cool</em>!”</p><p>Tony burst out laughing, and the other three turned to look at him with varying degrees of amusement and fake indignation.</p><p>“You see this?” Rhodey demanded, waving the empty bowl at Tony. “What’s it comin’ to when a superhero brother can’t get no respect around here?”</p><p>“There’s a superhero here?” Bucky asked, widening his eyes and pretending to look around the room. “Where?” He ducked and finally laughed out loud as Rhodey snatched the cushion from behind himself and struck out at Bucky with it.</p><p>Rounding the couch, Tony scattered the snacks across them all, then carefully placed the drinks on the coffee table around Rhodey’s feet. “Never fear, the popcorn hero is here!” he said, cheerfully, and struck a ridiculous pose before flopping down onto the couch between Bucky and Rhodey.</p><p>“Changing your name to Corny Man, huh?” Rhodey pretended to consider this, then nodded solemnly. “’s good, man. I think it’ll catch on.”</p><p>Tony spluttered. “Corny? I’ll give you ‘corny’…” He reached for the cushion that Rhodey had been using as a weapon, and a brief tug of war ensued. Vision and Bucky cheered them on. Tony finally emerged as the winner, mainly by dint of ‘accidentally’ brushing his fingers over Rhodey’s side, where he just so happened to be ticklish.</p><p>Smugly tucking it behind himself, he reached for a bag of his favourite blueberries, as the other three dispersed the rest amongst themselves, amicably bickering.</p><p><em>This</em>, Tony thought, as they all settled down and FRIDAY was finally able to begin the movie. <em>This is what a family really feels like.</em></p><p>This was home. </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>